carry the divine
by lifeincantos
Summary: space is alive and under siege and whispers one name, over and over, with its drowning breath: voltron. ❪ alternatively: the v:ld AU we all needed. ❫
1. oo1 prologue

Nine months of travel, with a sleeping quarter almost as large as his bathroom at the Garrison, and Daichi still presses his nose up in awe against the glass of the ship's large viewing window when he's well and truly sure that neither of his teammates are looking.

Maybe it's the fact that even out here, where the earth fell out out range of the visible spectrum long ago, everything is __still__ miraculous. The stars are not close enough to touch - the planets they pass distant to avoid their gravity. He __knows__ the science - as much as someone like him will ever know the science - but even plunging into the inky black of the great beyond, the mysteries remain.

"Wow, I can actually __see__ the sentimentality, Sawamura."

Ah yes. Nothing like a little dose of reality to cure the sublime.

Daichi turns, neatly hiding any flutter of embarrassment with a wry grin and a neatly arched brow.

"Can you? Shocking, I didn't think you'd could see anything past your collection of rock samples, Tsukishima."

Tsukishima is __not__ so adept, apparently, because his face cycles through a whole range of emotions - startled, indignant, amused, mock hurt - before he slings a carefree arm around Daichi's shoulders and, rather than pull him away, joins him at the window.

"Honestly, the great tragedy of this world is that no one believes me when I tell them what a little punk you are."

"It's not my fault I turned in my work on time and followed the rules. And I'm not __little__ anything. I'm literally six months younger than you."

"Followed the rules? Have you __met__ you? Six months and like, six feet shorter."

"You're not allowed to exaggerate. How can we ever trust you as our resident scientific genius?"

"Uh, because of the whole resident scientific genius part."

"Who lacks a doctorate."

"Who lacks a - hey!"

That earns Daichi a playful slug to the shoulder that lands maybe a hair too hard. But Akiteru's definitely feeling it too; knuckle bones against military trained muscle don't stand much of a chance, and it gives Daichi a little thrill of satisfaction. Satisfaction that shows in the way his grin grows wolfish around the edges.

"Who's __finishing__ a doctorate," Akiteru corrects, giving up the clearly futile mission of rough housing and instead focusing on messing up Daichi's hair as much as he can. "You know better than that by now, c'mon."

"Do I?" Daichi feigns ignorance, batting away the hand in his hair. But he's betrayed by his own laughter, glittering and hard. "Fine, fine, you're just an easy target, man."

"Well, one of has to be. - Hey, Boss, wanna help me gang up on Sawamura?"

Daichi freezes under the weight of Akiteru's arm, caught between panic and the desire to snap to attention and settling on neither. It doesn't help that the presence of something around his neck makes it that much easier to stay down and mull over his options.

And then there's something suspiciously hand shaped resting on the back of his head and he's fairly certain this is how he dies. What a headline - pilot of the historic Coeus mission to Kerberos, dead of embarrassment before they touch down.

As if oblivious to his plight, the newcomer behind him laughs.

"Now why would I do such a thing to our heroic, upstanding pilot?" It's no surprise that Commander Tashiro's voice is gentle and warm, and Daichi's soul continues to evaporate from wherever it had been moored.

"Oh my god, seriously." Akiteru heaves a champion grade sigh, reluctantly withdrawing his arm from around Daichi's neck and crossing it against his chest with his other. Which means that Daichi has no recourse left - he has to stand straight and face his commander, blood red face and all.

"Commander, I -" The words strangle in his throat and at his left he hears Tashiro make a sound that's traitorously close to a laugh. Though he's focused on meeting his Commander's eyes, he's not really seeing much of anything through his haze of respect and fear and embarrassment.

Commander Tashiro takes it in stride. He ruffles Daichi's hair (he'll bemoan it when he gets a chance, now that it's wrecked) before dropping his hand to his shoulder.

"Everything's fine," he says warmly, radiating the kind of confidence that probably comes with years of study and leadership. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Daichi."

"Or an alien!" Akiteru offers unhelpfully. Daichi almost whines before he catches himself.

"Still holding out hope?"

" _ _Think__ about the possibilities." Akiteru's eyes are glittering, and Daichi sees the Commander's lips twitch into a broader, more playful smile. "Not only have we traveled the farthest of any manned space mission - with the youngest and most decorated crew in history - but add first extraterrestrial contact on top of that? Don't crush my dreams, Boss. 'Sides, gotta take a pic of one for Kei."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Tsukishima." Tashiro's voice is softer now and, without realizing it, Daichi finds that the tension and shame has bled from his frame. Tashiro catches his eye and flashes him a grin.

"C'mon, Captain Sawamura. I want to show you something before you have to check our progress."

"Ah - right! Sure thing."

"Have fun, guys." Akiteru waves, turning on his heel to the hall of the ship that he'd dedicated to his research quarters over the past almost - year. The gesture is passing and casual, but when he turns to reciprocate, Daichi thinks he can see the restless excitement knitted into his flesh, simmering just under the skin. And he can't really blame him - for the antics, the energy, the laughter.

They're only a few days from descent, now. No one faces making history, alighting on their destiny, with composure.

* * *

He drifts.

Everything is so far away out here - every star, every planet, every sound. They echo strangely, bouncing around like so many radio waves scattering into the ether. Part of him - asks? Begs, maybe, __needs__ to hook onto those sounds. The voice is insistent, an alarm.

Listen. Listen. Say something - wake up - wake up, __Daichi__ -

Five more minutes, please.

He drifts.

* * *

Space is all points - arching points, lines drawn between omnipointed stars, plotted courses, the dotted pattern of satellite bodies. It is distances - so far, each celestial body __years__ separated from the last. It is silence.

Someone calls to him.

No, someone __yells__.

His eyes are shut, leaden. But without realizing it, he finds himself aware - twitching muscles he can't identify, searching for his cardinal directions, seeking out the floor or the ceiling or anything solid with which to orient himself. Anything, ground yourself - find an anchor and you can accomplish __anything__. All you need is something to hold, white knuckles straining under your skin as a sign that you will always endure.

Daichi opens his eyes.

The world is violet, and he is not alone.

Things resolve asymmetrically. He notices first that whatever is in front him - these things aren't human. None of the humans he knows have claws and fangs and grow seven, eight feet in height. None of the humans he knows have yellow eyes that pierce through him until he can feel the pain lance through his temple.

\- Not just his temple. Like shattered glass, the entirety of his head aches in a way that matches his pulse, thready and quick. His stomach rolls, rebels, but he can't, he's wearing his -

\- No helmet? How can he - is he breathing? Air catches in his chest, strangles in his lungs because he can't - breathe, breathe, just do it, captain just __breathe__ god damn it -

\- He coughs, he hears voices. He can't understand them - is his hearing...? Muffled or, but no, it's __fine__ he just - can't understand -

\- But he ****can****. One of them - he knows that voice. He knows how gentle and warm and solid and all knowing it is. Should be - how it should be, because this is __not__ the measured and sheltering honey - gold voice of Commander Tashiro Hidemi.

"We don't know - he doesn't know! Please, release them - !"

Daichi's throat __burns__ , a fact he only notices when he opens his mouth - to respond to the Commander, to say something, to address the __thing__ that's leaning in, now only inches from his face, speaking in a language so jagged and steel laced that it slices through him, nausea roiling in the pit that was his stomach.

"- We mean you no harm," he chokes out. Tashiro falls silent. Daichi cannot turn to look at him. Words build behind his teeth now, straining with the pressure of his useless tongue and blistering throat. "Please - we're not... We're not here to fight we are - please. They've done nothing - let them go, let us __go__ \- !"

" _ _Daichi!__ "

Instantly, __instantly__ he knows that voice. From the corner of his eye, Daichi can see Tashiro's frantic expression. But at the insistence and fear he hears, he turns to Akiteru just as something connects neatly with the back of his skull.

He sinks.

* * *

 **notes** ; comments / questions / theories are all more than loved.


	2. oo2 simulated response

This really isn't the way Tsukishima Kei wants to die.

"Stay in your seat!"

"I can't, you keep – ah, stupid Kageyama, stop rolling!"

"I can't stop rolling because you haven't locked onto coordinates yet!"

"I can't lock onto coordinates if you keep rolling –!"

Eh, come to think of it, if he's dead at least he won't have to listen to Things One and Two argue like their aircraft isn't blaring every alarm it's equipped with and they're hurtling toward certain, fiery demise. Or they would be if this wasn't some useless simulation designed to strip bare everyone's level of sheer incompetence for the entire class to witness. Like they're not all just as hopeless.

"Hinata just get to your screen and get the coordinates!"

"Come back here and say that to my face!"

"I'm flying, you idiot!"

"Well maybe I should be the one flying!"

"We're literally in the air right now!"

– Maybe not just as.

If Tsukishima pulls his arms any closer to his chest, he might just crack a rib. Turned away from the other two – Kageyama gripping onto the wheel and Hinata bouncing around, untethered, in his seat – they can't see the way the irritation grows increasingly apparent on his face. When a faint tension headache threatens to bloom from the combined force of his clenched jaw and the incessant alarms, he knows it's time to do something.

"Shut **up**."

How his voice cuts through the noise he'll never know, but Kageyama and Hinata freeze – evident by how the motion and clatter behind him stops all at once. He draws in a breath and turns in his chair.

"Are you two going to pilot this thing or are we going to crash?"

For a moment, the only sound is the ringing alarm. And then, of course, both other voices overlap, talking a mile a minute and demanding equal attention.

"I'm going to pilot us out as soon as –"

"If he would just –"

"I can't drive this thing surrounded by idiots –"

"Who are you calling an idiot, idiot –"

"That's what you are –!"

Another alarm pierces through the tangle of accusations, and even Tsukishima has to wince at its volume. The viewing windows bleed red, glowing with scrawling lines of neon warnings about engine failures, wing failures, mechanical failures, system failures –

"Yamaguchi!" Hinata's voice is high and grating and Tsukishima feels personally victimized by its sheer volume and pitch. "Do something!"

He knows they can't hear his scoff, but they can see how he turns back in his chair and props one foot up on his console.

"I'm not saving your worthless hides."

Hinata draws a breath – probably to yell at him with that insufferable voice of his – when all the alarms hit a crescendo and then stop altogether. The motion of the ship stops with it and when the doors open in the back, letting in all the earthly florescent light, the tableu of Tsukishima lounging against his console, Kageyama gripping the wheel hard enough to snap it off, and Hinata stretched to his limit, holding onto his chair with one foot and his arms gripping Kageyama's headrest like he's about to tackle him.

"– **Cadets**!"

That's really not a good sound.

Kageyama is the first to snap to attention, shooting out of his seat and dutifully lining up against the glass wall of the bridge. Hinata is next, right on his heels and spurred on by his movement, though he does it all with considerably less dignity and almost knocks Kageyama over in his attempt to stand straight and salute simultaneously – two things at once, not his strong suit.

Tsukishima is last, and somehow creates just as much fanfare with how slow and quiet his trek is. It's at least a full half minute before he's joined them and he can hear the collective sound that a crowd makes when they have something meaty to chew on. It's like the scattering of rodent feet on cement. He makes a concerted effort not to look too murderous.

"Nice of you to join us, Cadet Yamaguchi."

Maybe this is how Tsukishima dies. He can't figure out if this is better or worse.

"Sir," he replies thinly, raising one hand – the correct hand – to his brow. The Lieutenant holds his gaze for a few long moments. Tsukishima looks stubbornly back, refusing to wither until the contest is over and Lieutenant Irihata turns on his heel to address the crowded students.

"Can anyone tell me what these cadets did wrong to have their mission fail so spectacularly?"

It'd sting if there was any time to process. Thankfully, the crowd en masse replies almost immediately.

"The pilot takes his turns too fast!"

"The communications officer wouldn't listen to the pilot!"

"And he wouldn't stay in his seat."

"The engineer didn't do anything!"

"They took a nosedive!"

"They spent the whole mission yelling at each other."

"Precisely." A metallic chill works its way down Tsukishima's spine at the last voice – there is no mistaking the golden edged voiced of Cadet Oikawa. At least he's spared from the lilting, smug little grin when Irihata agrees in his clipped, professional way. No, instead he gets to see Hinata squirming in his periphery while Irihata turns back to leer at them.

"Arguing – yelling at each other, ignoring safety regulations. Ignoring orders from base. You failed to keep your objective in mind, and you failed each other."

Well of course they did. It's a wonder Hinata can breathe and walk at the same time for all his idiocy, and Kageyama's hardly better. Sure he's fast behind the wheel but it's not like he studies or aces his classes. And even what he's supposed to be good at – who the hell can keep up with those sharp, banked turns and monosyllabic grunting that's meant to be communication? After last year's tragedy - after the Coeus, a year ago - you'd think everyone would take this more seriously.

The condemnation is expected, and as such shouldn't rake its rusted, tanging claws down his skin like this.

"You three back with the others. Watch. Try to learn something."

Tsukishima can practically hear Thing One deflating in relief, his stupid, grating voice falling like shattered glass. Kageyama makes no move to silence him or keep him out of trouble, and Tsukishima is finally, for once, inclined to agree. Let the moron get busted for cheering or falling over or fainting or whatever it is he's doing. It's not Tsukishima's problem.

"Yamaguchi."

He almost forgets to react to the name, but Irihata's voice is a low and terrible thing and that alone is enough to remind him and make him freeze.

"Sir?"

If Irihata hears how Tsukishima grinds the word out like a curse, he doesn't comment.

"There's a difference between failing and failing to do something. I'll cure the stupidity out of someone, no matter how whole they wind up on the other side. But wasting your intelligence by sitting idly by is not something I'm inclined to waste my energy fixing. Consider that before your next assignment, Cadet. Dismissed."

Irihata turns and lines up the next team at the simulator's door. Tsukishima waits a moment longer, and refuses to acknowledge the ice that pools in his veins.

* * *

"Kageyama, you're making too much noise!"

"Wha – _me_? Are you crazy?"

"Of course you! We're going to get caught!"

"If we get caught it's because you can't keep your mouth shut for five seconds!"

"That's not – ow! Stupid Kageyama, that hurts!"

Hinata bats at Kageyama's hand, but he fails miserably to keep the other from pressing his fist against his crown. The sting of knuckles against skull is nothing compared to the frustration of Kageyama being so stupidly tall and mean and – just a dumb jerk.

Of **course** it had to be him, right? Of all the kids in their class, it had to be Kageyama on his team. At least Yamaguchi isn't a total jerkwad to him 24/7. What, is it Kageyama's mission to run him out of the Garrison? Hinata earned his spot, okay, and it'll take a lot more than stupid Kageyama braining him to shove him out the door.

The pressure on his head releases and for a full, whole second Hinata feels nothing but gleeful satisfaction. Then he realizes that he's hearing footsteps echoing down the darkened hallway. Oh crap – someone's awake right now? Whipping around, Hinata realizes with a start that he's alone.

"Wha – Kageyama!"

"Idiot, shut up!"

He can't place where the disembodied voice is coming from – back the way they came? Behind something? The trash cans are pretty conveniently placed, but there's no one there when he checks and where else is there to hide –

"Pick a spot already!"

Oh! There, the little alcove, he hadn't even seen it at first. Good choice, Kageyama! Hinata slips right in – and immediately realizes that it's not quite big enough for the both of them.

"What the hell, Kageyama? This is tiny!"

He can kind of see how Kageyama's face changes color, goes darker. But the much more salient clue is that patented death glare, which his shiny eyes and the whole murder you vibe. A chill races down Hinata's spine.

"Of course – you stupid – why are you hiding here?"

"Because this is the hiding spot!"

For a moment, Kageyama looks lost for words. " – My hiding spot! You idiot –"

"You boys aren't very good at this."

Good thing they've already been caught. Now Hinata can scream without repercussion.

Or – well, whoops. Probably not.

He can't actually see from this angle so he sticks his head out of the alcove. Behind him (next to him? It really is cramped) Kageyama makes a noise of protest. But they're not going to get anywhere, obviously, and their cover is already blown.

When he's out, he's greeted with a familiar sight.

"Lieutenant Sugawara!"

"Cadet Hinata."

Sugawara's voice is always so gentle and calm, and all at once the nerves of their late night escapade and subsequent capture are rolling off of his back. The chill dissipates from his spine and he hops right out of the alcove. Kageyama hisses something. Hinata ignores him.

"What are you doing up?"

Sugwara's mouth twitches, the lines around it carving a little more deeply with the motion. "Isn't that my question?"

"Idiot!" That's what Kageyama's whispering. Oh – oh. Right. Lieutenant Sugwara. Instructor Sugawara.

The Lieutenant leans, canting his head to the side. His expression is gentle, but Hinata realizes he's not smiling.

"Hello, Tobio. Please join us."

The sinking feeling creeps in again without Hinata's notice as Kageyama unfolds himself from his hiding spot and sidles up next to him, standing at full attention. Oh! Maybe he should do that too? He whips his hand up fast enough to smacking himself in the eye. It waters instantly.

Sugawara huffs a sound that sounds almost like a laugh.

"Okay. Now that we're all accounted for, I think I need an explanation."

"Ah – an – explanation?"

Sugawara turns his gaze on Hinata and Hinata wishes fervently that he hadn't said a word.

"Curfew began some time ago. And even if it hadn't, this area is restricted outside of scheduled class hours. These are major disciplinary offenses, Hinata."

If it's even possible, Hinata feels Kageyama stiffen further.

"We – ah, well you see – we just – "

"We were going to the simulator."

Both Hinata and Sugawara freeze at Kageyama's explanation. What – what? And Kageyama calls him an idiot? Like he's not just – standing there running his mouth like that? Oh god, they're gonna get expelled – !

"Oh."

Are they?

Glancing up, expression knitted into eight knots of panic, Hinata can see Sugawara's thoughtful look. He raises a finger to his lips, tapping like he's giving this every ounce of thought he's got. Is that okay? Is that a good thing? Or is he calculating how quickly he can kick them out the door?

And then he's laughing. Really laughing.

Hinata sees how the lines around his eyes wrinkle deeper – and part of him is glad (well, duh, it's probably better if Sugawara is laughing rather than calling in Irihata or somebody), but there's also... Sugawara isn't that old. He's only in his twenties and Hinata doesn't remember seeing those lines last year. Something twists uncomfortably in his stomach, despite the rush of relief.

"I heard about your crash landing," he says, kindness slipping back into his voice. It's so familiar that Hinata's face burns with hearing it. "Were you trying to practice?"

"I don't want to crash again." Kageyama's voice is steel – also kind of familiar. It's how he sounds when he's tired of being a jerk. "Our next simulated flight is in a week. I have to be ready."

"I see." Sugawara looks steadily at him, and then at Hinata. Silence passes for a moment or two. Hinata holds his breath. "Then where is Yamaguchi?"

"O-oh, he, uh..."

"It's just us."

For once, Hinata can't say he's mad that Kageyama's talking over him. He doesn't know why, but it feels – bad to admit that their engineer bailed on the idea before they could even finish explaining it. Especially when he was the one who wouldn't do anything anything today –!

Sugawara stays silent for another moment more before releasing his tension and placing a hand, weathered and warm, on each of their shoulders.

"Go to bed. And by bed, I really mean bed. Get some sleep because you're going to be up early tomorrow."

"Early...?" Oh god, are they actually getting kicked out?

"Five hundred hours. And not a minute late. Someone will be here to help you. But it has to be then, got it?"

No, they're not! Joy, bright and glittering, floods Hinata's veins and he turns back to flash Professor Sugawara the biggest grin he can manage.

"Yessir! Definitely! Thank you!"

He's rewarded with a smile of his own, Sugawara's whole face lighting with it. "Of course. Don't be late."

"We won't!"

No, they won't. Hinata's three alarms and blissful, deep sleep will see to that.

* * *

Suga waits until the boys are out of sight, trusting that if they managed to sneak out this far, they won't encounter any issues getting back to their dorm. It's... not the safest bet. They are Hinata and Kageyama, and with reputations like theirs he can't help but worry. But this is as much as he can do, and he'll have to live with it.

It's good practice for everything else he has to live with.

He turns on his heel and tracks back the way he came, pausing outside Irihata's office and exhaling sharply. His expression momentarily steels into something sharp and jagged before he releases the breath and shoves the cloned keycard further into his pocket. He'll have to destroy it before morning.

If Irihata changed his lock, again, it could mean that he knows. Standard operating procedure requires six months, and the process is tedious and inconvenient that the possibility is very real – he could know that someone has been trying to access his files.

He could even know the culprit.

But doubts and hesitation – Sugawara is distinctly tired of failure. These kinds of worries will only hold him back, and the stakes are too high to let fear still his hand before he uncovers what he needs to. So drawing a breath he unhooks the scanner from his belt, deftly jams the electromagnetic frequency of the surrounding cameras, and takes a reading of the new lock in the thirty seconds the jammer allows him.

He finishes with five to spare and is down the next hallway when the cams are back online. His heart is racing in his throat and the muscles of his hands are throbbing with the strength of his grip on the scanner.

Good. That's fine – that's great. Let him be terrified of the consequences; it still won't stop him.

* * *

 _notes_ ; comments / questions / theories are loved! find me on tumblr:  womeninthesequel


End file.
